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In My Mother's Hands
Elizabeth Ward, known to one and all as Biff Ward, has written a very moving account of her childhood. Of a household that tiptoes around her mother, who clearly has her demons. We learn early on that before Biff and her younger brother, Mark, there was Alison, who drowned in her bath. Maybe this baby died when her mother was distracted but, as the story unfolds, we become more certain that she was actually killed. Biff, too, is once almost throttled by her mother, and she is always on guard—wanting to know where her mother is in the house, and where her beloved father is. She fears for the safety of her brother. As Biff grows into teenage-hood, there develops a conspiratorial relationship between her and her father, who is a famous and gregarious man, trying to keep his wife's problems as a family secret. The mother is somewhat paranoid; she believes they are being spied on. And indeed, that is not a delusion—the father is publicly known as a Communist, although he ultimately resigns from the party as he feels his membership is contributing to his wife's downward spiral. This is the 1950s, a time when the insane are committed and locked up in Dickensian institutions; whatever his problems, he is desperate to save his wife from that fate. This is a beautifully written coming-of-age true story, set in Sydney, Canberra, and Armidale. Emotionally perplexing, it has some of the qualities of a first-rate mystery. There is the mystery of Alison's death, of where the mother's illness will lead to, and what kind of man the father is—a legend or a womanizer, or both. This is a story that will intrigue readers of any age.
300 pages, Paperback
First published June 1, 2014
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Displaying 1 - 23 of 23 reviews
March 4, 2015
I was uneasy with this memoir. It tells the story of the author's childhood, living with a mother who was almost certainly schizophrenic in 1950s Australia, where mental illness was poorly misunderstood and treated. The author wrestles with a dreadful situation, and highlights how poorly society dealt with post-natal depression and mental illness and the awful choices families faced - try to keep living around the problem or commit a family member to fairly brutal 'therapy'.
I increasingly struggled to share Ward's sympathy for her womanising father, who treats his clearly unwell with frustration and contempt. These are human reactions of course and obviously it's hard to judge the specifics of a situation like this, but it all sat a bit awkwardly with me.
Side note: for the third year running I've read the Stella Prize long-list in full. It's a fantastic selection of books this year (as it has been every year) and has turned me on to some wonderful books and writers. My vote for this year would probably go to Only the Animals or Foreign Soil, but you'd really better read them all.
I increasingly struggled to share Ward's sympathy for her womanising father, who treats his clearly unwell with frustration and contempt. These are human reactions of course and obviously it's hard to judge the specifics of a situation like this, but it all sat a bit awkwardly with me.
Side note: for the third year running I've read the Stella Prize long-list in full. It's a fantastic selection of books this year (as it has been every year) and has turned me on to some wonderful books and writers. My vote for this year would probably go to Only the Animals or Foreign Soil, but you'd really better read them all.
June 7, 2025
A sad but captivating true story about mental illness and the effects on family life. Written with threads of love it beautifully captured the emotional impact that mental illness has on the people closest to the person that has the illness. I found it to be very touching.
February 23, 2015
When the Stella Prize longlist for 2015 was announced, I went through and downloaded samples of the books that interested me. This is the first book for which I read the sample and had to keep on reading.
Biff Ward grew up in a house that was unlike the houses of the people she knew. There was the shadow of her sister Alison, said to have drowned in her bath as a baby when her mother fainted. And there was Biff’s mother, a woman who always seemed distracted, apart from her family. At times this distraction broke and became something else: a paranoia that they were being watched, that people were coming to get them.
As Ward grows up, her mother becomes more and more detached, more unstable. She begins to gouge at her hands, pare back her nails with a razor, trying to rid herself of a “rash”. She wears gloves all the time that she is not gouging. Ward’s father copes as best as he can, though at times this “coping” seems to veer very close to abuse. He has a string of affairs, but he always returns to his wife, this woman who seems empty, who seems so incredibly sad.
It is as an adult, living apart from her mother, that Ward sets off on a journey to discover what really happened to Alison, what really is wrong with her mother. As she uncovers the truth, there is an indescribable sorrow that flows beneath the words of the book. Sorrow for Ward and her brother, essentially growing up without a mother. Sorrow for Ward’s father, who sought to protect his wife from a state asylum, the only treatment for mental illness at the time. And sorrow most of all for Ward’s mother, suffering most likely from postpartum psychosis and schizophrenia.
Ward draws parallels between her life and Jane Eyre, with the mad wife Bertha locked in the attic. Reading this book, I wonder how many Berthas there have been, essentially locked away for lack of real treatment for mental illness. Ward’s mother lived in a time before antidepressants and antipsychotics, a time when mental illness was hushed up, swept beneath the rug, hidden by gloves.
This is an incredibly important memoir, and I can only begin to imagine how painful it must have been for Ward to write. Without real help, her whole family suffered because of her mother’s mental illness. There is no blame in this memoir on Ward’s part, just that deep sorrow for the woman her mother might have been, if there had been real help for her at the time. Ward is to be thanked for her honesty and strength. This is not an easy read, by any means, but it is a book that is very much worth reading.
Biff Ward grew up in a house that was unlike the houses of the people she knew. There was the shadow of her sister Alison, said to have drowned in her bath as a baby when her mother fainted. And there was Biff’s mother, a woman who always seemed distracted, apart from her family. At times this distraction broke and became something else: a paranoia that they were being watched, that people were coming to get them.
As Ward grows up, her mother becomes more and more detached, more unstable. She begins to gouge at her hands, pare back her nails with a razor, trying to rid herself of a “rash”. She wears gloves all the time that she is not gouging. Ward’s father copes as best as he can, though at times this “coping” seems to veer very close to abuse. He has a string of affairs, but he always returns to his wife, this woman who seems empty, who seems so incredibly sad.
It is as an adult, living apart from her mother, that Ward sets off on a journey to discover what really happened to Alison, what really is wrong with her mother. As she uncovers the truth, there is an indescribable sorrow that flows beneath the words of the book. Sorrow for Ward and her brother, essentially growing up without a mother. Sorrow for Ward’s father, who sought to protect his wife from a state asylum, the only treatment for mental illness at the time. And sorrow most of all for Ward’s mother, suffering most likely from postpartum psychosis and schizophrenia.
Ward draws parallels between her life and Jane Eyre, with the mad wife Bertha locked in the attic. Reading this book, I wonder how many Berthas there have been, essentially locked away for lack of real treatment for mental illness. Ward’s mother lived in a time before antidepressants and antipsychotics, a time when mental illness was hushed up, swept beneath the rug, hidden by gloves.
This is an incredibly important memoir, and I can only begin to imagine how painful it must have been for Ward to write. Without real help, her whole family suffered because of her mother’s mental illness. There is no blame in this memoir on Ward’s part, just that deep sorrow for the woman her mother might have been, if there had been real help for her at the time. Ward is to be thanked for her honesty and strength. This is not an easy read, by any means, but it is a book that is very much worth reading.
May 11, 2015
A very moving memoir of life with a mother with mental illness, when the family struggled on with minimal help. A book of heart and humour, with great depictions of growing up in Sydney and Canberra. Biff's relationship with her father is central to the book, and gives us a real insight into his struggles. Very worthwhile reading.
May 8, 2015
Unfortunately the book didn't interest me in the slightest. Found myself skimming every time I picked it up, then decided to just stop reading.
February 6, 2018
I have fiddled around with this review for weeks and it’s only today that I realised what was bothering me – other reviews (settle down, I won’t name names).
Biff Ward’s memoir, In My Mother’s Hands, describes her life growing up in the 40s and 50s. Biff has a younger brother, Mark, but there was also baby Alison, who drowned in her bath before Biff was born. The drowning occurred because Biff’s mother was ‘distracted’ – it was an event that would have a deep effect on their lives in many ways and would continue to haunt Biff for decades. Biff’s father, historian Russel Ward, was charismatic, strong and outspoken. He was also short-tempered and frequently unfaithful to his wife.
We may not have had ideas we could voice but we breathed it in, the irrational in her, the grief in him and the unpredictability all around.
Biff and Mark grew up living in fear of their mother’s erratic and paranoid behaviour. Although they knew no different, they were acutely aware that she was not like other mothers – her ”…strangeness roared soundlessly through our house.” The siblings entered a conspiratorial relationship with their father, maintaining the façade of a functioning family while their mother’s mental state deteriorated.
…in spite of his strength and resilience, he was powerless in the face of what was unfolding. We were all crumpling into shapes determined by the impact of my mother’s state, a state which had no words outside the doctor’s rooms…
My problem with other reviews is simple – there is a lot of judgement regarding how Biff’s father treated her mother. Seriously, it’s as if some people got up on the morning they were writing their review, went to the wardrobe, and selected the largest pair of judgey pants they owned. And in regards to their judgements, I say three things –
1. It was the 1950s. There was far less understanding about mental health problems than there is today. Oddly, I think in some ways with an increased understanding there has also been an increased stigma. The people around Biff’s family were curious about Margaret but also dismissive – as long as Russel was holding court and Margaret was out of the way, life carried on.
2. We will never walk a day in Russel Ward’s shoes. My impression is that Biff thinks he did a pretty marvellous job at keeping her family together. That’s what matters.
3. It’s Biff’s story and she tells it with the full range of emotions that any ordinary person would feel over decades in her circumstances. So Judgey Reviewers, if you’ve lived forty years without having times where you’ve felt angry, disappointed, exasperated, jealous, sad, furious or fed-up, then sure, I guess you’re qualified to pass judgement. If not, show some compassion.
In My Mother’s Hands wobbled a little toward the end when Biff delved into her own story, unrelated to that of her mother’s – the loss of context was a shame, given that it had been so carefully constructed throughout the majority of the memoir. Nevertheless, there are moments in this book that will stay with me – Biff writes with the clarity of an historian but the emotion of a daughter and it makes for compelling reading.
3.5/5 This book is honest, confronting and sad.
Biff Ward’s memoir, In My Mother’s Hands, describes her life growing up in the 40s and 50s. Biff has a younger brother, Mark, but there was also baby Alison, who drowned in her bath before Biff was born. The drowning occurred because Biff’s mother was ‘distracted’ – it was an event that would have a deep effect on their lives in many ways and would continue to haunt Biff for decades. Biff’s father, historian Russel Ward, was charismatic, strong and outspoken. He was also short-tempered and frequently unfaithful to his wife.
We may not have had ideas we could voice but we breathed it in, the irrational in her, the grief in him and the unpredictability all around.
Biff and Mark grew up living in fear of their mother’s erratic and paranoid behaviour. Although they knew no different, they were acutely aware that she was not like other mothers – her ”…strangeness roared soundlessly through our house.” The siblings entered a conspiratorial relationship with their father, maintaining the façade of a functioning family while their mother’s mental state deteriorated.
…in spite of his strength and resilience, he was powerless in the face of what was unfolding. We were all crumpling into shapes determined by the impact of my mother’s state, a state which had no words outside the doctor’s rooms…
My problem with other reviews is simple – there is a lot of judgement regarding how Biff’s father treated her mother. Seriously, it’s as if some people got up on the morning they were writing their review, went to the wardrobe, and selected the largest pair of judgey pants they owned. And in regards to their judgements, I say three things –
1. It was the 1950s. There was far less understanding about mental health problems than there is today. Oddly, I think in some ways with an increased understanding there has also been an increased stigma. The people around Biff’s family were curious about Margaret but also dismissive – as long as Russel was holding court and Margaret was out of the way, life carried on.
2. We will never walk a day in Russel Ward’s shoes. My impression is that Biff thinks he did a pretty marvellous job at keeping her family together. That’s what matters.
3. It’s Biff’s story and she tells it with the full range of emotions that any ordinary person would feel over decades in her circumstances. So Judgey Reviewers, if you’ve lived forty years without having times where you’ve felt angry, disappointed, exasperated, jealous, sad, furious or fed-up, then sure, I guess you’re qualified to pass judgement. If not, show some compassion.
In My Mother’s Hands wobbled a little toward the end when Biff delved into her own story, unrelated to that of her mother’s – the loss of context was a shame, given that it had been so carefully constructed throughout the majority of the memoir. Nevertheless, there are moments in this book that will stay with me – Biff writes with the clarity of an historian but the emotion of a daughter and it makes for compelling reading.
3.5/5 This book is honest, confronting and sad.
September 25, 2022
Biff's mother suffers from postpartum psychosis and, later, paranoid schizophrenia at a time (the 1940s and '50s) when few people had words for such conditions, let alone treatments. Ward portrays her mother's condition and its impact through a child's eyes. The fear, confusion, isolation, and shame she feels is devastating. Yet her depiction of both her parents, including her warm, scholarly, Leftist sex-addict father, is utterly kind. That's what makes this book as painful to read as it is wonderful: no one is to blame, love is always present, yet everyone lives in a kind of private hell at times. The structure is savvy, as Ward circles back to the mystery surrounding her older sister's bathtub drowning at four months old. Healing and answers often seem off-limits, leaving a young Biff floundering to find herself, but both come, eventually if partially.
July 8, 2024
This is a very powerful story told with poignancy and bravery. Those who know of Russel Ward's 'The Australian Legend' will be endeared to this story about his family but told from his daughter's perspective and experiences of growing up in a disturbing household. It goes to show that we don't always know what goes on behind closed doors but apparently there were many who did get the gist of some abnormality in this everyday family. It's a story about sometimes taking a lifetime to really understand family secrets and to put all, or nearly all, the pieces of the puzzle together in the end. There is a real mix of empathy and frustration exerted towards understanding and living with the unpredictability of one's family members. Biff Ward really puts a light on mental illness that many could relate to but which was so misunderstood in her time.
September 19, 2023
Brutal in all the important ways. Biff’s writing is excellent and engages throughout the storytelling of her memoir. It’s a tough read. The courage to brave writing this book is nothing short of astounding. If I had the chance, I would thank Biff for documenting the devastation of mental illness in an era of silence and stigma, of stoicism and denial. Biff is generous in her compassion for those who did not act in her interest as a young person. I am simply grateful this story made it to print. It’s important. It helps our consciousness of mental illness and the far reaching impacts an illness has on the individual as well as those that surround them and are surrounded by them. A privilege to read.
August 13, 2017
Hard. So sad. Disturbing and emotionally brutal read. This novel starts slowly, builds gradually then the pace quickens. Very well written book. The first few chapters explain the characters: Alison: the deceased baby, the Mother and the Father and of course where they lived. That's the slowest bit. Then it gets into the nitty gritty: the family secrets and so on. After the halfway mark I could not put the book down. I cried in three parts: revisiting the family home, on Biff receiving her Dad's old writing desk and chair and realizing there was a name for her Mother's illness. This is a quick read but profound. Worth the read.
June 11, 2024
Quite engagingly written, Biff takes us through the anxieties of her childhood growing up with a parent with untreated schizophrenia. Her journey let's us in on her important insights about herself, her traumas and her parents as she guides us through. There are many heart-warming moments and a good deal of clarity and gutsy honesty.
July 18, 2020
One sided poor lady
One sided I truly feel for the mother poor bugger wouldn't it be nice to hear her side we are more educated now and it's a shame that poor woman never had a voice easy to play victim
One sided I truly feel for the mother poor bugger wouldn't it be nice to hear her side we are more educated now and it's a shame that poor woman never had a voice easy to play victim
March 1, 2019
Brilliant. Riveting.
March 25, 2016
The history of diagnosis and treatment of mental illness is relatively recent and short. A person who was once thought of madness can now have their illness named and treatment provided.
Biff Ward tells of growing up in a home where her mother was considered mad. Biff also knows of an older sister who had died at 4 months old - drowned in a bathing incident. Whether this was an accident or a result of her mother's illness is central to the story. Biff and her brother grow up with her father who is an academic, activist, teacher and seeks relief through affairs. Biff grows up and follows in her father's footsteps.
The sadness in this book is for Biff's mothers (and all the others) who were born one generation too early.
Biff Ward tells of growing up in a home where her mother was considered mad. Biff also knows of an older sister who had died at 4 months old - drowned in a bathing incident. Whether this was an accident or a result of her mother's illness is central to the story. Biff and her brother grow up with her father who is an academic, activist, teacher and seeks relief through affairs. Biff grows up and follows in her father's footsteps.
The sadness in this book is for Biff's mothers (and all the others) who were born one generation too early.
October 21, 2016
A moving memoir of a woman who grew up with mother that was mentally ill in the 40s and 50s, when it was not well understood. They lived in Australia, so that adds additional interest for those of whom do not live there. Biff Ward is able to look back with well written descriptions at her unusual and often terrifying childhood. Mostly there seemed to be a large sense of the absence of the mother that was not quite there. She also shows how people either knew something was not quite right and ignored it, or that the facade the family put on really worked and the dysfunction was mostly not visible. How many other people lived and continue to live under such circumstances? Hopefully, with the advent of anti-psychotic medications, it affects many fewer families this much.
July 21, 2015
This was an interesting and well written memoir about growing up with a mother who had mental illness in an era when such things were kept secret. The narrative line was strong with a nice balance between the child's voice, the adult's voice of later reflection and references to source documents with information about thoughts and events that were not shared with the daughter at the time. The book made for interesting reading and a spirited discussion at our book club.
January 7, 2016
Biff Ward, the daughter of the noted historian Russel Ward, writes of her mother's struggles with mental illness. It's more than this though: the whole family struggles. Although Ward's revelations about both parents are startling, the tone is wistful rather than vindictive, and while she censures both parents at times, her compassion shines through.
See my full review at:
https://residentjudge.wordpress.com/2...
See my full review at:
https://residentjudge.wordpress.com/2...
August 2, 2023
Gripping and complicated. I'm learning about memoir at the moment and we often talk about how even if you're writing about difficult experiences with someone, if you love them, that will come through. Love comes through this book in many complex ways, but above all towards the author's father, who is the backbone of this story in a hugely relieving way. You can't talk about mothers without talking about fathers, and this is a great example of that.
April 3, 2015
A beautifully written memoir about a time when mental illness was not understood. Ward's upbringing was clearly difficult and traumatic and yet she writes with grace and understanding about what was a pretty untenable situation for all of them. For my full review, please see: http://whisperinggums.com/2015/04/02/...
January 24, 2017
I was predisposed to like this book as I vaguely know the author. A very clear, gripping, raw exploration of a childhood in the shadow of a mother's mental illness. So many images from this book have stayed with me - I can still 'smell' the sandy North Sydney soil under their house. Not sentimental, but still respectful of why the family members behaved the way they did. A great read.
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June 1, 2014I've reviewed this title for the Newtown Review of Books.
July 8, 2015
3.5 Stars
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January 28, 2019The sub-title of this book is 'A disturbing memoir of family life', and disturbing this story certain is. It is a searing tale of a family torn apart, over several generations, by a poorly-understood and mis-diagnosed psychological illness. In clear, often poetic prose Ward’s story is told with intelligence and emotion.
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